That Miserable Day in May
by Dru Ennis
Summary: After the attempt on his life, Starsky's therapist suggests that he begin to keep a journal. He finds himself trying to remember things he can't and trying to deal with things he can.


That Miserable Day in May  
By Dru Ennis

(Previously published under a different pen-name)

Dear Journal …

The shrink I've been seeing since that miserable day in May said that he thought it would be helpful for me to write down some of my thoughts. I've been thinking of little else since that day, but he says putting it on paper will make me feel better.

I guess, we'll see!

Everything stopped for what seemed like an eternity that morning in the police garage. Damn, did I screw up big time or what? I should have hit the ground when I heard Hutch yell, "Starsky get down!" I was mostly worried about Hutch. I thought he was still standing.

The last thing I remember before meeting the ground was seeing the glare of the sun on an automatic rifle aimed at me, hearing the shots, and feeling my body slammed up against my car from the impact of the bullets hitting me - the searing pain in my chest and stomach.

I remember somewhere in there crying out in pain - or maybe just crying out for Hutch.

Some things are still kind of fuzzy.

I lie there unable to move - unable to speak. I could feel warm liquid gushing from the newly formed holes in my body. I could taste blood in my mouth.

_This can't be good._

I could hear Hutch's Magnum blasting away - four shots - five. I could hear him screaming for me.

_Thank God. At least he's on his feet. If he's hit, maybe it's not too bad._

Six shots. Empty.

By now, my vision was fading in and out. Maybe I was just fading in and out of consciousness. But I did see a big, blurry, blond standing at the front of the Torino. I don't think I'll ever forget the look of abject terror in his eyes, as he stood momentarily frozen in time.

I could feel myself beginning to convulse - my body rejecting the foreign objects that had violated it - put there by 'assailant or assailants unknown.' I could feel that familiar warm liquid foaming from my mouth - tastes terrible.

_Hutch, oh God. Hutch!_

Almost as if he could hear me, Hutch came bounding toward me, dropping by my side.

"Starsk...God, please no! Don't do this dammit!" I could hear him whisper. "Not this way!"

_Don't do this dammit? Is he talking to God or to me? Maybe both of us._

Hutch pulled my head out of the wheel well and eased me into his lap. I still couldn't talk. My eyes only barely open. My chest was heaving - every breath an effort.

There was a lot of shouting and a lot of movement. I could hear the slap of shoes running toward us. And I heard someone yell, "Get an ambulance." It wasn't Hutch's voice. Must have been one of the dozen or so uniforms that had gathered around to try and help.

"C'mon buddy, hang on - help's coming," Hutch soothed. I could feel his hand stroking my cheek, stroking through the blood and drool that my now irresponsive body was oozing.

I'm glad he was there - and in some ways sorry he was there. I was scared. Hutch was scared too. But, I needed my best friend there to hold me, in case. I just couldn't be alone. Not then.

I kept hearing a peculiar gurgling sound - like someone drowning. Much to my own terror, I suddenly realized it was me. I was drowning in my own blood. It was becoming even more difficult to breathe. I tried so hard to fight back the tears … tears from the intense pain, the fear, the feeling of loss. The tears came anyway. Hutch's arms tightened around my shoulders. I could feel him squeezing my hand.

Both of us on the ground. Both of us covered in blood - my blood.

There was an assortment of voices fading in and out as I lie there waiting for whatever was going to happen - to happen. My colleagues … my friends:  
_  
"I just talked to him a minute ago."_

_"Jesus God!"_

_"It could have been any of us … "_

_"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name … "_

_"Really nice guy … "_

_"I really like him … "_

_"Aw, shit what a mess!"_

_" … the kind of cop I want to be … "_

_"Who the hell would do this? "_

_"Hey, maybe this will mean a detective opening in homicide."_

_Okay, maybe not all friends.  
_  
"Starsky … c'mon pal, open your eyes for me. Stay with me, buddy."

_Oh God, I'm trying!__  
_  
"Hutchinson! What the hell … "I heard Dobey's voice boom and suddenly soften. "Oh Sweet Jesus, no." He must have seen the pitiful sight. "Dave?" I heard Dobey softly call. "Dave, can you hear me? Hang on, son. Please hang on."

_Oh shit - first name - I must be dying again. Not funny Starsky!__  
_  
It seemed like I'd been lying there forever. Where's that damn ambulance?

"Where's that damn ambulance?" bellowed Dobey.

_Thanks, Cap.__  
_  
I started feeling my body shiver - but I'd broken out in a sweat. Then I saw Bernie - the beloved veteran uniformed officer that had kept Hutch's secret … our secret, for so long. He knew about the heroin addiction. He knew about everything, but always kept our secret. He knows about loyalty and love. Bernie knelt next to me and leaned over with several towels and a blanket that I guess he heisted from the shower room. "He's getting shocky, Hutch."

I could feel Bernie pulling my shirt open and easing the towels over the wounds, which were still oozing blood at a pretty scary rate. Bernie held pressure on the towels and pulled the blanket over me - over us.

I could feel the fingers of Hutch's other hand running gently through my hair. I opened my eyes a little wider to see two ocean-blue, tear-filled eyes staring down at me. Hutch looked 90 years old. His face furrowed with fear and pain. I wanted to say something - anything. I couldn't. All I could do was squeeze the hand that held mine and emit a soft whimper. It was a weak squeeze, but it was something - it brought the faintest hint of a smile to his lips.

"That's it dammit, you fight!" Hutch commanded. Then I could see his mouth silently form the words 'I love ya', buddy.' I could hear the ambulance siren wailing in the distance as things went dark.

"Starsky … Starsky! No! No!"

I don't remember the ambulance ride completely. My eyes were closed. I couldn't see anything but I could hear bits and pieces of the paramedics talking to each other and to the hospital. I couldn't talk. Tube in my throat.

" … Pressure's dropping."

"Pulse is rapid and thready … "

"Memorial, we have a 34-year-old male, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen - bleeding out. He's had two pints - he's lost even more. Pressure is 70 over 40. Pulse rapid and thready. Respirations distressed … probable pneumothorax."

"You've gotta' do something," Hutch demanded.

"Sergeant, unless you want to walk, shut the hell up and stay out of our way!"

Hutch was there.

Again things went black.

Suddenly I could hear my own voice and another - that of a small child:

_"Atta boy Davey - you're going to be a heck of a pitcher, son. The pride of the Yankees! God knows they need a good lefty."_

_"You think so?" squealed the little voice of a five-year-old._

_"You bet! I'll have the whole precinct coming down to watch you pitch."_

_"I love you, Poppa."_

_"I love you too, Davey."  
_  
It wasn't my voice. It was my Dad's. I was the five-year-old. God, I miss him so much.

"David … David?"

It was another strong voice calling my name - this one standing over me speaking very loudly.

"David, open your eyes for me."

I could see patches of light as my eyes fluttered open slightly - then an out of focus face appeared above me.

"Hutch …" I gasped in a whisper.

"David, I'm Dr. Holloway. You're at Memorial Hospital. You've been shot. It's very serious. David. We're going to have to take you into surgery."

"Please don't let me die." I gasped, probably inaudibly, before losing consciousness again.

God what a wimp! I don't know - is it so wimpy not to want to die?

After that I don't remember much. Dark - lots of dark and voices. I knew I couldn't talk, but I guess I didn't realize that I was comatose.

_I can hear you. Hey, somebody! I'm here! I can hear you! Please don't leave me! Hutch, oh God, Hutch …_

I remember two nurses in the room. I think they were changing the bandages on my chest.

"What a nice looking young man. So sad."

"What's that?

"The doctor said his chances are not good at all. Severe damage to one of his lungs, his intestines; liver was hit; one kidney had to be removed. Massive internal bleeding."

"How did it happen?"

"He's a police officer. Someone was after him. That's why this place looks like a precinct now."

Their voices faded.

_Oh God, I'm going to die._

Then I heard it - a loud, shrill, alarm of some sort. Wow, I could suddenly see everything. The doctors and nurses were rushing in. Dobey and Huggy peered in through the window as they stood very still in the hallway. They looked like they'd seen a ghost.

_Where's Hutch? Hutch? Huuuuuuutch!_  
Floating. I'm floating.

I could feel myself floating above the room.

I could see them trying to make me live again.

I moved very quickly through what felt like a long passageway. "But I wasn't walking. I seemed to be - flying.

Is that the sun? No, it's too bright.

Not hot … but it sure is nice and warm.

There's a man standing just this side of the light.

"Davey."

"Pop! IT is you!"

"Don't be afraid, son … it's okay. I just want to tell you it's okay."

"Where am I, Pop?"

"You're in-between, son. You're dying."

He looked like me. It was like looking in a mirror. That always used to creep Hutch out. The first time he saw a picture of my Dad, he shivered.

"Will I live?"

"I don't know yet. I've been sent to be with you, Davey, in case you need a guide."

"Hutch. There's so much I didn't tell him."

"He knows, son. He knows."

I remember turning around and glancing back down the passageway. I could see the medical staff working to save my life. There was Dobey and Huggy and a few fellow officers - watching in disbelief.

Hutch. Where are you?

"Dave..." came a soft and warm voice.

I turned back around to my Dad. Standing next to him was Terry.

"I'm watching. I'm always here..."

"Terry … Pop …"

My Dad smiled sadly.

"It's not time, Davey. You must go back. You have things to finish."

Suddenly I felt a great force pulling me away. I tried to fight. I had to get to Terry, to my Dad, but it wasn't to be. I felt myself being hurled back down the passageway - a sudden sharp pain in my chest.

Help meeeee.

There was a brief flash of Hutch's face at the other end of the passage. And then darkness and a moment of silence followed by a voice that I'd heard before earlier.

The doctor. "Okay, we got him back. Normal sinus rhythm. Thanks everyone!"

Things grew quiet again... and dark. Again all I could hear was the clicking of the machines. Something was changing though. I was beginning to hurt. My chest and stomach felt on fire.

Please help me someone. It hurts so bad! Can't you hear me?

I could feel a tear running out of the corner of my eye.

Please see it! Know I'm here … and that I'm hurting.

I think I figured out that time has no value when you're comatose. There's no structure of what time is. I can't really tell you how long after that I felt his hand gently envelop mine. Hutch was there, and I couldn't talk to him. And I'm not sure he knew I was still there.

I got the sense that it must have been late at night. It was very quiet. There was no hallway noise, not very many medical people around. Just me and Hutch.

"Starsk, I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I …" I could hear him choke on his words. "Please don't leave me. I don't know what this world would be like without you. I'm not sure I want to know. I mean, the job already stinks, you know that … and now someone's trying to kill us … "

"They hurt you so badly. I want them dead! I want them to hurt as much as you're hurting."

His hand removed itself from mine and then I again felt it gently, carefully touching my cheek amid all of the tubes and machines.

"You're my family, Starsk. You're the best friend I've ever had or ever will have. Please hang around so I can prove that to you."

_Aw Hutch... you don't have to prove anything to me._

I don't remember much more … just a lot of darkness. Quiet.

After what seemed like days of trying, I was finally able to open my eyes … just a crack, to see Hutch pacing back and forth in my room. I don't know why but for a brief moment his gaze swung my way and I could see his eyes widen wildly. He must have thought he was seeing Lazarus. I remember drifting off to sleep again at the sight of my partner dancing with a semi-cooperative nurse and singing, "He's awake. He's okay."

Funny, after everything that I'd felt and heard, this made me aware that everything was going to be alright. Hutch was there. I was there. And everything was going to be okay.

Until later, I remain your devoted confidante,  
David

Fin


End file.
